Julius held him down. “That’s usually a man’s first response. To try to escape the source of pain. It gets worse when you realize there is no escape.”
Hanford’s broad forehead glistened in the light. “Sod off, Rothchild. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Dunkeld sighed heavily. He turned sad eyes on Julius. “Can I assume that our order to keep this a stealth mission has been nullified?”
“That would be correct.” Julius dug his thumb in again and tucked his head against one of Hanford’s flailing arms. Liverpool could kiss his arse if he thought he was going to put his investigation over Amanda. Gripping Hanford’s collar, he throttled the man back against the settee. “We know about your crime ring. The businesses you’ve infiltrated. All the men you’ve blackmailed.” Julius doubted they knew a tenth of the people this man had victimized. But it never hurt to bluff.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hanford spat out.
Julius gripped Hanford high up on his shoulder. With his fingers digging into the man’s back, he tucked his thumb under Hanford’s coat, found the spot right under the man’s collarbone and squeezed.
He kept the pressure on, even as Hanford shrieked and writhed beneath him. He kept it on until Dunkeld pulled him away.
“I think he’s ready to talk,” Dunkeld said mildly.
“All of you can go to hell.” Hanford wheezed, spittle rolling down his chin.
Julius stepped towards him, and the older man shied away.
“Wait.” Hanford raised a hand, and slumped against the brocade back. “Just wait.”
Bile rose to the back of Julius’s throat. Every second he wasted with this scum could be the second Amanda needed him most. “I don’t have time to wait.”
Hanford shook his head. “I’m not admitting to anything. But if you want to find your woman, I have an idea where she might be.”
Dunkeld slapped a hand around Hanford’s neck. “Did you not understand the man when he said time was of the essence? Stop dancing around the answer.”
“The catacombs!” Clawing at the fingers around his neck, Hanford’s gaze darted between Dunkeld and Julius. “There’s an entrance into them from the basement of this building. It’s a web of pathways. There are entrances to the catacombs from all the buildings on this block. St. Katherine’s used to have an abbey. It’s been torn down and built over by this club and others, but the foundations remain. And the basement entrances. Most of them had been bricked over, but not this one.” He bobbed his head up and down. “I’ll bet Miss Wilcox was taken down there.”
Julius stumbled back. He gripped the back of a chair as chills swamped his body. He locked his knees and prayed he wouldn’t collapse. It had to be the damn catacombs.
Without looking at Dunkeld, Julius said, “Send a message to Liverpool. Tell him what’s happened.” Slowly, he straightened and plodded to the door.
“I can’t leave him until one of Liverpool’s men arrives.” Dunkeld looked from Julius to Hanford, and back again. “If we want to keep this under wraps, we can’t give him time to communicate with his accomplices.”
“I know.” Grabbing the end of the bureau, Julius pushed it aside and jerked the door open. The hallway was empty. “Stay here with him. I need to find Amanda.”
“But …” Dunkeld grabbed his hair and cursed at the ceiling. Gathering himself, he put his fists on his hips and took a deep breath. “I’ll go into the catacombs. You stay here.”
“The woman I’m going to marry is down there. I can’t stay.” Julius ignored his friend’s dropped jaw and ran from the room. He’d never been to the club’s basement before, but it wasn’t hard to find the staircase. He grabbed a candle from a wall sconce and took each step down on shaking legs. He told his body to hurry, but his legs refused, each step closer to the labyrinth of passageways a battle.
He crossed the basement and stood at the entrance to a small archway that had long ago lost its door. The stone steps down were narrow, uneven. Dank air washed over him, and he knew he’d found the catacombs. Sweat ran down his spine. He tried to focus on marshaling his nerve, pushing out the fear.
The fear fought back. With a groan, he descended into the darkness. Of course, there was no question he’d go down and find her, claustrophobia be damned. Because of Amanda, there were some things he feared more than being trapped. A life without Amanda was right there at the top.
He’d been a right arse. Thinking that a woman could trap him. That marriage was another prison. Amanda had shown him just how liberating loving a woman could be. He’d built his own walls, never letting a woman get too close, trying to safeguard his heart. She’d blasted right through them. She was his light guiding him out of the darkness.
And if he didn’t find Amanda alive and in one piece, Julius knew he’d be lost in the dark forever.
***
The skin around Amanda’s wrists burned, but she kept trying to wriggle her hands free from their bindings. The rope her kidnapper had used wasn’t the soft silk or hemp that she was used to. Nor was she accustomed to the panic she’d felt in the ropes when she’d awoken, face down on cold stone, with her arms bound behind her. The feeling of safety Julius created with his knotwork was gone, transformed into terror and pain.
If she survived this, Amanda vowed not to let this piece of filth ruin what she and Julius had found together.
No, she corrected herself,whenshe survived this. When she got out of here, she would take Julius’s hand, slip a length of rope into it, and let him choose what to do with her. The sense of freedom she had when bound to his bed was something she cherished and would fight for.
Laying on her right side, her back to the wall, she let her head sag to the floor. Everything ached. She rolled her shoulders and peeked at the man who’d taken her. The torch by the door sent flickering shadows over his face. He leaned against the wall of the small chamber they were in, arms crossed, tracing patterns in the dirt with his toe.
